Sunday Snippets 38 – Masked Hearts


Welcome back to the Weekend Writing Warriors!

MaskedHearts_MED

Last week got away from me and I totally missed seeing you all. However, I’m back with my travelling wild west show story, Masked Hearts.

For those that were wondering from my post two weeks back…the horse was moving at a VERY slow walk…I’m not about to have my heroine leap off a trotting horse, that’s just silly.

Now, back to this week. Roy’s persistence has paid off, and he has managed to make Minni speak to him, although she still carries a lot of anger. He begs her to tell him what tribe she is from. She finally relents, but names the tribe in her language:

“Newe,” she kept stitching.

“Newe; the people,” he whispered.

A small yelp escaped as a drop of blood appeared on her thumb before she shoved it in her mouth. With wide eyes, she stared at him.

With a gentle touch he pulled out her thumb, “What?”

“How did you know that?”

“I don’t know. I think…I think I remembered it.”

*Creative editing used this week to fit in the 8.

*~*

If you want more of these wonderful two…pick up a copy!

Amazon | SCP | BN | ARe | 

Minnie Woodward lives a lie. After barely surviving the Bear River Massacre she’s lived in the white world of her guardian Mister Rawlins, her life debt keeping her tied there. The last thing she needs is Roy’s attempts to gain her favor. Her fate’s sealed. She’s never believed in hope, and not even Roy can make her start.

Roy Ornum saves Minnie every night in the traveling Wild West show. The job he took to break his gambling habit brought him a new addiction – her. He knows she doesn’t want to be rescued, but maybe he does. She’s the key to a past he lost, one he wants to find again.

As the two grow closer old wounds are reopened and their burgeoning trust is shattered. When lives hang in the balance of their choices they’ll need to work together. Otherwise everything will be lost before hope can be found.

*~*

Head back on over to the Weekend Writing Warriors to read many more wonderful offerings!

Tuesday Tales – Sea – Untitled

_DSC5564-01Welcome back to Tuesday Tales!  This weeks prompt is to be inspired by the word Sea.

Well, The Wolf is done, and while I must work on Witch Way, this weeks word prompt just didn’t fit. It also didn’t fit into Natural Selection. So this week I’m starting a new story. I believe it’ll be fantasy, but I haven’t figured it out completely yet.

I was inspired in part by our word this week, Sea…but also by this image on Pinterest, which I could not use b/c I don’t have permission to do so…but please go check out what Aingael looks like HERE.

So here is the start of a new, as yet unnamed, story. Queen Aingael Fluerette Taverna was born and raised the Princess of Lyach. At the proper age she wed Gunnar, the prince of a neighboring country, and became Queen. It is not a match made in heaven…and two years ago she learned of a plot:

Clamoring tones of bells across the kingdom coalesced into a jilting melody of parting. From her position on the parapet overlooking the sea Aingael ran her fingers along the string of bells lining the stone’s edge.

Against the rising sun the entire fleet of the kingdom of Lyach moved further away. The chiming of bells were to wish the men luck on their journey, but Aingael knew the truth, their departure meant the end of her kingdom as it was.

A pact made in secret she was never meant to be privy to, but being Queen did have its privileges, as did being raised in the castle. She knew every hidden nook and cranny, even those her husband, King Gunnar, thought only he knew.

He’d made a pact in blood two years prior, one she’d taken steps to ensure would not succeed. Gunnar thought he left her undefended, only old men and boys to protect their inlet kingdom from the oncoming attack.

Aingael turned to her lady in waiting as the sun rose too high for her to safely stare into. “Cherette. Help me remove these garish clothes. We haven’t much time.”

As soon as Aingael sat on a stool, Cherette set to work. Her handmaiden pulled her blond locks free of their bindings and carefully removed the gold and jewel headdress. Once it was set aside they carefully removed the garish diamond adorned gown Gunnar insisted she wear to display wealth the kingdom did not have.

In its place Aingael donned a simple black blouse and pants over which she could place her armor without problem. She handed off the gown and headdress to Cherette.

Cherette placed them in an iron trunk they’d had made for this purpose. She carefully placed the dress on top of the rest of the jeweled gowns and headdresses. “I will have Shane put these on the carts, miss.”

“It’s Aingael now, Cherette. As my husband sold all of our heads to the highest bidder, we are now all in this together.” Aingael set her hands on Cherette’s shoulders. “I am no longer Queen. I am with my people.”

“Aye, but you always have been, Miss.” Cherette bowed.

Aingael kissed her on the forehead. “Now go. Get Shane and go out with him to the warded sector. I wish you as safe as these jewels. Remember where I asked you to hide them.”

“In the recesses of Croche valley, under the village square. I shall guard them with my life.”

“You’ll guard yourself. If the past two years have been worth it, hopefully you’ll not have any need to guard a thing.”

“Are the woman prepared for the sort of battle you are expecting? It will be a battle against men, savage men.”

“Aye. Savage and unfeeling.  The Cairn are raised for war, but they are not defending their home.” Aingael glanced toward the sea. “And I must pray to the Goddess that they are not prepared for the way a woman fights. They are under the impression that we aren’t prepared for their attack, that they will be able to come in and destroy.”

“By Her grace your preparations will not be for naught, my lady.”

“By Her grace, Cherette, we will survive.”

*~*

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Tuesday Tales – Ride – The Wolf

VelliWelcome back to Tuesday Tales!  This weeks prompt is to be inspired by the word Father.

I’m sticking with the next installment of The Tribe series – The Wolf again this week. 

To set up the scene ever so briefly without revealing too much, Velli and Kane are on their way back to the one place Velli never wanted to return – the reservation where she faced a painful and severe punishment because she fell in love…with Kane. They have to go, because something is there that they must find.

Along the way, Velli spots another spot. The one place where her life changed forever:

Instead of driving straight through, Kane behaved like a normal human. They stopped often on their ride for breaks and spent the night in hotels. Even in their need to get to their daughter he’d been considerate of her still healing body, and the wounded soul being ripped back open with every mile closer to what had been her home for so long.

For that she was grateful, even if it somehow made it both worse and better at the same time. With her Wolf back her own pains were intensified by Tala’s still broken spirit. Of course, there was the anger and the knowledge that the people so cruel to one of their own, the ones that hadn’t recognized Velli’s pain, they were the ones raising her child.

Kane mostly left her alone in her quiet to absorb every mile marker of impact, every memory that rushed forward to remind her of what they drew closer to. Rationally she knew her mind exaggerated the horrors of her youth to make peace with the terror and pain of her final days there.

In truth, beyond the depth of fear and sorrow was a note of peace. Returning to the home she’d known so long brought a sense of relief. Her mother. The lands filled with magic. The familiar forests and lakes that filled her few peaceful dreams.

Kane’s hand brushed her leg again as it had periodically throughout their drive. The gesture offered an occasional comfort and offer of support she’d been free to reject.

This time she grabbed his hand and straightened. “Stop.” The squeak in her voice embarrassed her. She hadn’t realized how long it had been since she’d spoken.

The truck stopped short and they both jerked forward with the force of the sudden stop. His thumb brushed the back of her hand when she lingered in silence. “Vels? What is it?”

“That’s it.” Her heart raced so fast she worried it might burst. The skeleton of the silo’s roof hovered above the tree line, broken and rotted with the age of the past ten years. Last time she’d been there the roof had been whole, where bats collected in a writhing nest.

A seatbelt clicked and his warmth covered her against the sudden chill coursing through her.

More than anything she wanted to turn into his warmth and go away, push away the memory once again as she always did. Instead she shoved open the door at the same time as she undid her seat belt. Ignoring his yell to wait, she took off running.

Toward the place that started her pain.

If she was going to face the pain of returning home, first she had to face this place. Where everything started. She didn’t know if it would help, and it probably wouldn’t, but she had to prove she was strong enough.

Turned out she wasn’t.

Ten yards away she stopped, gasping at the impact of a memory.

“Poke Pocahontas!” Childish stupid laughter echoed through the dark enclosure. Another painful attack made her sore body jerk in protest. The laughter annoyed the bats still lounging and they swooped in her face and hair as the boys pinned her to the wall.

“Velli.” Kane shook her hard. “Velli. Look at me, baby.”

She hadn’t even realized she was crying until the pad of his thumb brushed a tear away. His lips took care of another. “I can’t even face this. How can I go back?”

“Because you aren’t alone. You tried to do this alone. I’m here now.”

“I always thought I was so strong. I’m not. I’m just a hell of an actress.”

“And so modest, too.”

The laugh bubbled out before she could stop it. A weak laugh that was muffled by his chest along with her words, “Big oaf.”

“I know.” He pushed her back by her shoulders until he could press his forehead to hers. The steady strength of his touch helped ease her trembling. “And just for the record, I think you’re more than strong. You’re invincible.”

“Kane.” She sighed and grasped his cheeks in her hands. “Gushing doesn’t look good on you.”

“I don’t gush.” He spun her around and smacked her ass. “Now get moving.”

Reassured by his presence, she did just that. Any time she faltered his strong hand rested on her shoulder to help. Before she could truly contemplate running in the other direction they were standing in the door.

“What a shit hole.”

“It had a roof. Back then.” She wrapped her fingers around the cold rusted metal of the door and pulled it open. The grating squeak of the hinges sent Tala shivering and she felt a similar shudder from Kane. At the moment, Tala wasn’t cowering—after all it wasn’t her fears now. It was Velli’s.

“Looks like it’s still a hangout.” Kane’s bitter tone echoed through the small space. Funny, it had seemed so much bigger a decade ago. “I can smell it all. You said you kill the ones that raped you?”

“They were the first people I ever killed.” Velli ran her hand along the concrete blocks of the walls until the cold seeped into her fingertips. The icy chill seeped through to her heart until the rapid beat slowed to almost a stop. “I did it before I left Canada. There was a horrible accident. They were drinking and died in a car wreck. Drowned in the lake. Tragic.”

“Too good a death for them.”

She smiled, not the least bit bothered about finding humor in their deaths. Vengeance may not be right in most cases, but it had been necessary for her. “They didn’t die slow. I got to watch the light face from their eyes as I drowned them. I poured beer down their throats as they struggled just as they had done to me.”

“Seems they passed on their tips and tricks. This place reeks of sex, drugs, and alcohol.”

Even without the senses of her Wolf she could smell everything. The silo itself was saturated with the sickening scents of her memory.

Everywhere she turned images rushed forward. The screams of her own memory filled her head, the scents of the past and present consuming her nose. Her body tensed for another scream she didn’t want to release for anything.

Then Kane was at her side. Maybe instinct guided him, but he didn’t touch her. Instead a low growl rumbled through the cramped space, not loud, but enough to cut through the screams in her head. The warmth of his body lingered close. “You’re not alone.”

*~*

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Sunday Snippets 37 – Masked Hearts


Welcome back to the Weekend Writing Warriors!

MaskedHearts_MED

I’m back with my travelling wild west show story, Masked Hearts.

I was surprised (and a little amused) at how many people commented on the chemistry/dynamic between Minnie and Carl…considering Carl is not the hero of the story.  So, to help with that, I thought I might show a little of the hero himself, Roy.

This is after the previous scene, when Roy (in character) has charged onstage to ‘rescue’ the ‘fair maiden’ Minnie was made up to look like. The show they’ve just put on takes place in an army camp, so Roy insists on escorting her home for her safety. Minnie is confused and upset by her attraction to the white man that joined their troop some time ago – and his persistence in trying to talk to her doesn’t help. Here she tries to refuse his assistance:

“Makes no difference,” Minnie pushed against him, trying to sit of her own volition. “The moment I change out of this costume and show my true self my virtue is in jeopardy; it’s the only thing the Mister cares to protect.”

“Well, I’m concerned with protecting everything.”

“And I have no need for your concern or protection.”

“So you’ve told me.”

She shoved aside his arm and jumped off the moving horse. After a brief stumble she righted herself and lifted her chin.

“You’re a stubborn woman.”

*Creative editing used this week to fit in the 8.

*~*

If you want more of these wonderful two…pick up a copy!

Amazon | SCP | BN | ARe | 

Minnie Woodward lives a lie. After barely surviving the Bear River Massacre she’s lived in the white world of her guardian Mister Rawlins, her life debt keeping her tied there. The last thing she needs is Roy’s attempts to gain her favor. Her fate’s sealed. She’s never believed in hope, and not even Roy can make her start.

Roy Ornum saves Minnie every night in the traveling Wild West show. The job he took to break his gambling habit brought him a new addiction – her. He knows she doesn’t want to be rescued, but maybe he does. She’s the key to a past he lost, one he wants to find again.

As the two grow closer old wounds are reopened and their burgeoning trust is shattered. When lives hang in the balance of their choices they’ll need to work together. Otherwise everything will be lost before hope can be found.

*~*

Head back on over to the Weekend Writing Warriors to read many more wonderful offerings!

Tuesday Tales – Father – The Wolf

KaneWelcome back to Tuesday Tales!  This weeks prompt is to be inspired by the word Father.

I’m sticking with the next installment of The Tribe series – The Wolf again this week. 

To set up the scene ever so briefly without revealing too much, Velli and Kane have made a plan to find out where her ‘boss’ is…which involves using her as live bait. Kane pretty much hates the idea, but doesn’t have a better plan. His nerves are getting on Velli’s nerves so she goes over the plan again…but the conversation eventually takes a turn:

She let out a growl very much like her Wolf was near the surface. “Let’s go over it again, then. Best way to Sal is through Chicago. The club there is the slimiest of the lot, and the two guys that run it…”

He gritted his teeth at her shudder. “Then it’s not the best way.”

“The darkest path is the best one to get where we want to go. Plus, Larry and Carl are sick, but spineless. One of your brutal protection measures and they’ll spill Sal’s location as they piss their pants.”

“It’s not fool proof.”

“Never said it was.” She drank her beer leisurely. “Anywhere else would be foolish. They’re more organized and careful, like the place you found me at in California.”

The mere mention of California had him grabbing for his beer to cool off. Velli’s moves on stage were as impressive as her moves in battle. Worried as he might be at the upcoming plan, he was still an animal.

“I’ll go in alone. No point in setting off alarms this early in the game. I’ll do what I can to extract the information without trouble.” She polished off her beer and pushed it across the table where the bottle met his in a quiet clink.

“You said Hunters guard the place.”

“Yup. Then there’s Bacey. Best bouncer of the lot spends most of his time there, because he can handle the riff raff. He was good to me.” She narrowed her eyes at the curtains. “He never touched me, though he intimated he wanted to. I think it was a rule set down by the boss.”

“Sal.”

She didn’t answer immediately, and the familiar flicker of confusion creased her features.

“You’re not sure Sal is the boss, are you?”

“He’s boss Sal.” She bent her knees so her feet sat flat against his thigh. Gaze on the tequila, she fidgeted in her seat. “It’s one of those things again. I just have a sensation that I’m talking about someone else when I say the boss. I can’t explain it.”

“Sure you still want to do this?”

“Yes. I always knew he wasn’t the biggest man on campus—but he’s high up enough to know where she is. He was there, in California.” She glanced his way. “Fifteen minutes. Promise me you’ll give me fifteen minutes. You’ve seen me battle, you know I can do this.”

“Not one minute more.”

“If you think this is bad, you’re a pussy.”

“It’s never been my mate before.” He frowned at her attempted lightheartedness. “And as for seeing you battle, I have seen it. I often wondered why you didn’t try to be a Warrior. You sure have the skills for it. There aren’t a lot of female Warriors, but they’re there.”

“I never had the discipline. Skill isn’t all it takes to become a Warrior. I was never good at following proper behavioral rules and all of that.”  She smirked when he snorted. “As you’ve seen for yourself.”

“You’re a spoiled brat and content to be so.” He grinned in relief at her chuckle. “I get that, although you probably still would have made it. A few of the Warriors I met on my last visit were not up to the usual strict standards.”

“Our numbers were dwindling. I remember Father and Silver Fox talking in hushed tones about the problem. They were trying to pinpoint when the magic started to falter.”

“They felt it, too.”

“Of course they did. They were two of the most powerful men in the Tribe.” She shuddered and sat forward to wrap her arms around her legs. “The magic must be growing weaker now with Silver Fox gone.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go see Reed?”

“I’m not ready.” At least she didn’t bolt at the suggestion, even though her body tensed. “I’m sorry. It’s selfish.”

“It’s not selfish to worry about your child first.”

“That’s not all I’m worried about. I’m worried about what he’ll think of me.”

“The man couldn’t hate you if he tried. Much as I dislike him—the guy knows you. He hasn’t hated you all these years knowing all about you, he won’t hate you now.”

“I’m the reason his father is dead. The reason he has to return to the reservation.” She’d whispered the words, but he’d heard clear as day. After a minute she rubbed her palms along her cheeks and sniffed. “Let’s get our drink on.”

“You trying to kill me, woman?”

“Healing magic, remember? Alcohol is going to hurt me more than it hurts you.”

He could push the matter of Reed, but he decided to pick his battles. In too few hours he’d be sending her to the wolves, he might as well make the next few hours easier.

*~*

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Sunday Snippets 36 – Masked Hearts


Welcome back to the Weekend Writing Warriors!

MaskedHearts_MED

I’ve been sharing my contemporary romance for a while, I thought it might be nice to go back in time…to the old west and a travelling wild west show.

Masked Hearts is my oft-neglected stand-alone novel, but every time I bring it up I remember why I enjoyed it.

In this first 8, Minnie is onstage in their wild west show with another native. In life off-stage they take exception to each others behavior:

“You call us a joke?” The fierce warrior brave named Carl snarled in her ear under the speech, taunting her with their familiar argument. He knew onstage was the only time she’d let him close enough for such talk. His foot stomped on her skirt, crushing her bustle and pulling her backward. “At least we don’t act like one of them.”

“You do what you need for your whiskey. I do what I must to survive.” She fought the urge to hit him.

*No creative editing this week.

*~*

If you want more of these wonderful two…pick up a copy!

Amazon | SCP | BN | ARe | 

Minnie Woodward lives a lie. After barely surviving the Bear River Massacre she’s lived in the white world of her guardian Mister Rawlins, her life debt keeping her tied there. The last thing she needs is Roy’s attempts to gain her favor. Her fate’s sealed. She’s never believed in hope, and not even Roy can make her start.

Roy Ornum saves Minnie every night in the traveling Wild West show. The job he took to break his gambling habit brought him a new addiction – her. He knows she doesn’t want to be rescued, but maybe he does. She’s the key to a past he lost, one he wants to find again.

As the two grow closer old wounds are reopened and their burgeoning trust is shattered. When lives hang in the balance of their choices they’ll need to work together. Otherwise everything will be lost before hope can be found.

*~*

Head back on over to the Weekend Writing Warriors to read many more wonderful offerings!